


Bits of Stuff

by kestra_troi



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Werecreatures, Anal Sex, Ass Play, Bestiality, Body Worship, Bottom Derek Hale, Bottom Derek Hale/Top Stiles Stilinski, Bottom Jackson Whittemore, Bottom Jon Snow, Bottom Scott, Bottom Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Brother/Brother Incest, Cannibalism, Come Sharing, Consensual Somnophilia, Crack, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Derek Hale/Scott McCall Kissing, Dom Scott, Dom Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Dom/sub, Domestic Fluff, Drabble Collection, Enemies to Lovers, Episode: s07e06 Beyond the Wall, Established Relationship, Facials, Father/Son Incest, Feminization, Grinding, Hate Sex, Headcanon, Height Differences, In the bunker, Indirect Incest, Interns & Internships, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Loki and Thor Are Not Related, M/M, Magical Peter Hale, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Masturbation, Mentioned Kate Argent, Moral Ambiguity, Multi, Muscles, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Not Canon Compliant, Notfic, OTP Feels, Office Sex, Older Man/Younger Man, Oral Sex, Other, Parenthood, Past Abuse, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Bottom Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Ramsay is His Own Warning, Rare Pairings, Safer Sex, Scott McCall (Teen Wolf) is a Tease, Sibling Incest, Smutty, Snippets, Snowballing, Spanking, Stiles Stilinski Has a Big Dick, Stiles Stilinski is a Tease, Sub Jackson Whittemore, Sub Stiles Stilinski, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Scott, Top Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Top Stiles Stilinski, Voyeurism, Were-Creatures, Werebears, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2019-10-20 00:52:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17612327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kestra_troi/pseuds/kestra_troi
Summary: Here is my dumping ground of random headcanons, smutty drabbles, incomplete/unfinished/shelved works, and random shipping thoughts/ideas. Each chapter is a standalone, unconnected vignette.Chapter 1: Stiles really loves Scott's ass, so sometimes Scott teases him with it. [Headcanon]Chapter 2: Stiles and Jackson are rival interns. They have sex. [Not!Fic]Chapter 3: Thorki Parenting Headcanons. [Human AU]Chapter 4: Sour Skittles threesome. [Human AU, Derek is a bodybuilder, Not!Fic]Chapter 5: Wincest Later Seasons [Bunker Sex, 69ing, Snowballing/Come Swapping, Drabble]Chapter 6: Ramsay Bolton [Modern AU, Masturbation, Bestiality, Voyeurism, Indirect Incest,] [Snippet]Chapter 7: Jon and Tormund have sex Beyond the Wall. [Somnophilia, Bottom!Jon, Pet Names, Anal Sex] [Snippet]Chapter 8: Scackson fluff/domestic headcanons [Human AU, College AU, Established Relationship]Chapter 9: Jackson x the Sheriff Not!Fic [spanking, age gap, dubious consent, subby Jackson]Chapter 10: Steter Snippet [Post-apocalyptic AU, Cannibalism, Stiles is magical/werecreature]





	1. "Your ass is fine." Sciles, Ass kink

**Author's Note:**

> If anything I post inspires you to write something, please let me know.
> 
> All comments and kudos are welcome, but recognize that this is a space I need to be free of pressure, so please don't ask for more. 
> 
> This collection of stuff is just for fun/to clear up space on my hard drive/to cross-post from Tumblr so nothing I write will be lost.

Don't think about Stiles constantly pinching, grabbing, squeezing, kneading, and slapping Scott's ass every chance he gets because, yeah, they're boyfriends now, so he gets to do that. And Scott lets him get away with it, even though he blushes adorably every time, especially when they are in public.

 

But sometimes, Stiles takes it too far. Sometimes he won't stop being handsy even when he really should.  

 

So, as a punishment/treat, Soft Dom (TM) Scott will tie Stiles down to their bed buck-naked and just grind his ass down on Stiles' aching-hard dick. Over and over. He always makes sure Stiles has a nice view of his dick disappearing between his cheeks, but never sliding in. Leaving him wanting to buck up into that tight heat, but never getting to. Over and over. Scott lovingly teasing his best bud until Stiles finally erupts, coating his ass crack and butt cheeks with come.

 

Then, Scott lets him lick up his mess, while he tenderly nurses Stiles' softening cock, cleaning each other up. Once they're done, Scott will untie him and they kiss and kiss swapping Stiles' come back and forth until Scott swallows it all.

 

He warns him that the next time Stiles gets aggressively handsy in front of their parents, he'll have to go without ass for a whole month. And of course, smart-ass Stiles puts up a front, "Yeah, whatever, dude. You love it as much as me. You can't really blame me when you're the one with the ass that's outta this world...yadda, yadda, yadda."

 

Scott smiles and shakes his head, and the two of them cuddle (big spoon Scott, little spoon Stiles) until they fall asleep.

 

In the end, Stiles checks his behavior, most of the time, at least in front of the parentals because going without Scott's ass even for only a month just isn't worth it, except when it is. He just loves it when Scotty goes all Alpha Male on him!

 

But seriously, don't think about this unless you want to have a Sciles-induced aneurism.

 

This has been a Teen Wolf PSA.        

(from Tumblr)


	2. Stackson, Office Romance, Enemies to Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Not!Fic where Stiles and Jackson share an internship. They hate each other. Then they have sex.

Stiles and Jackson are both interns for the same company. This company has a history of putting an intern on the payroll after their year of service. This year is no different. One job opening for one intern. 

For Jackson a job at the company would mean one thing that he did completely on his own with no help from the family name or the family money. One thing that is HIS. One thing that doesn’t come with a family standard for success already set. 

For Stiles the job would let him knock off his side hustles and just focus on classes and one, single grind instead of school, an internship, and two part time jobs that pay shit. He needs the money and he needs the break. 

From the start they don’t get along. Stiles shows up the first day in khaki slacks and a plaid button down shirt, while Jackson wears one of his best suits. Of course, Stiles buys a coffee because he’s already exhausted, been up for hours, and of course he trips, and of course the whole thing ends up soaking Jackson’s handmade Italian blah, blah, blah... 

From that moment on they are mortal enemies.

And they work together every day. 

They spend their entire time sniping at each other, trying to one up each other at every turn. Some days Stiles wins, sometimes Jackson does. They’re both so different, have such different upbringings and lives, they just constantly get under each other’s skin. 

Most days Stiles goes home beyond tired, but satisfied because he got the last word in. Jackson meanwhile usually goes home to the apartment he shares with his twin sister fuming, aggravated that his obnoxious competitor bested him at words. Stiles just makes him so angry he can’t think straight, can’t get the words out in the heat of the moment.

It all comes to a head during the office Christmas party. They both get smashed on the expensive alcohol the company provided and end up making out in the supply closet. They’re both murmuring between kisses about how much they hate each other, despise each other, how little they think of each other while simultaneously ripping each other’s clothes off. 

Jackson ends up on his back, red-faced and annoyed, knees in his ears, legs up in the air while Stiles rims him. He refuses to make much noise, but of course the loudmouth is good with his tongue. It gets worse when Stiles stands up and gets his dick ready for 'the main event' as he keeps calling it. He pulls a condom and packet of lube from somewhere and he just goes in.

For Jackson its a religious experience. How can a spaz be so good? Jackson is so crammed he can barely breathe, but somehow the dicking down he’s getting is worth it. He can’t even touch himself. All he can do is grab hold of Stiles’ tight, little ass and hold on for dear life as The Dumbass somehow manages to give him the most intense orgasm ever. 

As soon as Stiles finishes they clear out.

They don’t see each other again until after New Years. 

They come back to work and everything is awkward, hella awkward. The anger that existed before helped hide the awkward. Did I mention it is awkward. They don’t talk about it. The one time Stiles brings it up Jackson shuts it down real quick by being the most pretentious ass ever, so Stiles lets it go. Except, he doesn’t. 

One night, they’re the last ones left on their floor still working. Stiles brings it up and Jackson tries to pretend it didn’t happen at all. He insults Stiles and questions his sexual aptitude and of course Stiles takes deep umbrage with that. 

‘My dick is great! You should be so lucky to have my dick in you again! How dare you question my skills! I got mad skills, son!’

In the end, he bends Jackson over the table in the breakroom and takes his ass again with a condom and a packet of lube he keeps in his back pocket because he never goes anywhere without a condom and a packet of lube on his person because he’s too big to use the regular sized ones and people can be real squeamish about taking his dick without something other than spit, so he’s always ready...and he plows Jackson into the ground, metaphorically speaking. 

Jackson ruins his boxer briefs.

Stiles smacks his ass hard enough to leave a handprint. ‘To remember him by’. And that’s that.

Except…

Now that they’ve had sex twice in the office, they can’t seem to stop. 

Now instead of yelling and berating each other they end up fucking. In the restroom, on the copier, in the parking garage, in the stairwell, everywhere. But it stays on the job. They don’t socialize anywhere else and they don’t talk about their feelings or their lives outside the office. Strictly, a business affair. 

Until towards the end of the year with the internship almost up, Jackson catches feelings. The sex is too good. He’s been around. Had men and women, plenty. The only sex advice his father, The Man-Slut, ever gave him was ‘one of the few things money can’t buy you is great sex. When you find great sex you don’t give it up because you never know if you’ll find it again.’

So, in an effort to hopefully maintain their little fling, one night he takes some files over to Stiles’ apartment. The building is run-down, just a step above a drug den. He makes it up to Stiles’ floor by miracle, that death trap wrongly called elevator should be decommissioned, and knocks on his door. Fully aware of how idiotic and transparent this is.

Stiles answers and he’s immediately suspicious. ‘What are you doing here? How do you know where I live? Why did you brings this to me instead of leaving it at the office?’

Jackson for all his bravado has got more tells than anybody Stiles has ever met. He can't lie worth a damn. 

‘Oh, you’re here for the d. Come on in, asswipe. My roommate’s outta town.’ Thus begins the next chapter of their “thing”. Jackson comes in. The place is in disarray, shabby, cheap. It’s as if he’s entered a new, hideous world. Stiles lights one up, takes a hit or two and offers it to Jackson who refuses. 

‘Don’t worry, I’ll still be able to give you the best fuck of your life,’ he assures his unexpected guest. ‘If I can do it drunk, I can do it high.’

And he does. Right there on their secondhand couch. Twice. Would’ve been three, but Jackson had to pee and when he came back Stiles was out cold snoring like a buzzsaw. 

Jackson didn’t leave. He stayed the night and never left. 

He cooked. He cleaned. He tried marijuana. 

Every time Stiles tried to bring up the subject Jackson got on his knees or bent over something or otherwise offered himself up and for awhile Stiles just went with it. Having sex regularly, almost on a daily basis, and at least two square meals a day was working wonders on his mood. But eventually his curiosity wins out. ‘What the hell, dude?’

‘We’re dating now, dipshit..’

‘Uh, since when, asshat?’

‘Since I said so, dickbrains.’

‘You can’t just waltz in here and decide we’re boyfriends. It doesn’t work that way. I’m not one of your little minions, you don’t get to just come in here and take over my life, fuckface.’

‘Here’s a freshly made breakfast and a thoroughly-cleaned apartment that say otherwise, fucktard.’

Stiles squints at him. ‘I’m not gonna quit sleeping around just because you’re delusional and think we’re going out, asshole.’

Jackson shrugs. ‘Fine, don’t. And neither will I.’

‘And I’m not gonna turn down the internship when they offer it to me.’

‘Neither will I.’

‘And don’t even think of trying to move in here with me, cramping my style.’

‘I would never live in this dump,’ Jackson assures him. ‘When we live together, you’ll move in with me.’

‘Like hell I am! I’m not gonna be your kept boytoy-stud!’

‘Really? Kept boytoy-stud?’

‘And I’m not getting rid of my Star Wars sheets. I’ve slept on them since I was a kid.’

‘Clearly.’

And on it goes. Two assholes in love. Or something close to it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been sitting on this smut bunny for years and have never been able to do anything with it. If anyone is interested in taking this and turning it into an actual fic please let me know. I'd be happy to help.
> 
> Comments and Kudos welcome!


	3. Thorki Parenting Headcanons (No Smut)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some Thorki headcanons. Modern, Human, Thor-and-Loki-Are-Not-Related AU, in which you are their child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are just some ideas that came to me the other day. Don't take them too seriously.

Thor:

  * Gets called Dad.
  * Drives you everywhere until you're old enough to learn and then he teaches you to drive taking it very seriously.
  * Sings in the car with every song that plays even if your friends are in the car too. He'll sing EVEN LOUDER if you ask him to quit.
  * Paints his face with your school colors for every sporting event you participate in. He cheers and boos louder than everyone else in the stands.
  * Loves to cook big meals and is always okay with you bringing your friends over to eat and hang out. 
  * Slips you your first taste of alcohol when you're fifteen.
  * Makes you go on morning runs during the summer so you won't get sloppy.
  * Helps you with your history homework and helps you study for your second/foreign language classes. He speaks 'a smattering' of a lot languages.
  * Is the 'cool' parent that everyone either idolizes or has a crush on, even the teachers and other parents. He gets along with everyone. Unless he gets pissed off, then he's super scary! He won't tolerate anyone speaking bad about you, your Papa Loki, or anyone else in your family. He's waaaaaaaaay overprotective.
  * 'Tests' your date-friends whenever you bring them over. Grills them with a smile on his face.
  * He loves teasing you and grossing you out with too much information about his and Loki's sex life.
  * Makes waaaaaaaaaaay too many Dad jokes. UGH.
  * Loves going to the movies with the family and having family game nights. 
  * Loves nature and going on vacations to see natural landmarks/formations. 
  * Loves the holidays and getting together with friends and family. 
  * Coached all your Little League teams and chaperones on all your away games.



 

Loki:

  * Gets called Papa.
  * Goes to your games wearing enormous sun hats and rose-colored sunglasses even when the game is indoors.
  *  Takes you clothes shopping every season to keep you looking chic. He helps you develop your own aesthetic, which is great, but he can be overly critical and snippy sometimes when he thinks your style is garish. 
  * He makes snacks for you when you're studying, or if you're sick, or on your period (if you have one).
  * He helps out with you math and science homework and is really helpful with your reading assignments. He's read pretty much everything so he's a great sounding board/discussion-haver and he's always happy to look over your essays.
  * He goes to every PTA meeting and parent-teacher conference. He's very vocal about everything your school is doing wrong/could do better.
  * Insists on taking the family out to museums and art exhibits and book stores so you can be exposed to 'culture'. 
  * He always reads the news and is always upset about what is going on.
  * He cheats at every game on family game nights because 'he's not here to make friends'/'he's in it, to win it.' He's waaaaaaaaay competitive. 
  * He used to make all your Halloween costumes until you got older and more finnicky. 
  * He does the decorations for all the holidays. You and your Dad help him carry out his 'aesthetic visions', with a lot of fond grumbling.
  * He takes you out on secret lunches sometimes when you're supposed to be in school. 
  * He loves pulling pranks on your Dad and sometimes he wrangles you into helping him pull them off.
  * When you're part of any school production he always helps out with the costumes and the sets. The one show he was allowed to direct was probably the most successful, but all the students and parents complained about the long hours of rehearsal so he's not allowed to direct anymore.  
  * Tapes every performance or concert you are in. EVERY SINGLE ONE. No exceptions.
  * When you got bullied in school he taught you self-defense and how to avoid cameras just in case.  



 


	4. Sour Skittles Threesome, Body Worship, Gay Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Not!fic involving bodybuilder Derek and two of his fans (Stiles and Scott). SMUT.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been wanting to do a body/muscle worship fic in this fandom for awhile. I kinda did one back in the day with Scott and Ennis, but it's never really coalesced. This not!Fic is as close as I've gotten to writing the type of fic I would want it to be.

What I need right now is a Human AU, Sour Skittles (Derek x Scott x Stiles) fic where Derek is a professional bodybuilder, all beefed up and bulky. Since there isn’t a lot of money in the ‘sport’ of bodybuilding Derek does webcam shows flexing and posing and sometimes more explicit things. All for money. In that same vein he also lets certain fans see (and touch) him in real life and sometimes more than that. For the money. 

 

Enter Scott and Stiles. They’re two of his fans. Apparently. They’re both enormous dorks, but when he met them at his uncle’s cupcake cafe they seemed pretty harmless, so he agreed to do ‘more’. 

 

For the money. It’s always about the money. That’s it. No other reason. 

 

Queer dudes just tend to make up a sizable portion of the muscle fandom. That’s all. So naturally, they make up a large portion/majority of his in-person touching sessions, and pretty much all his sexual, in-person sessions. No biggie. Just statistics.

 

And it’s just about the money. Really. Scott is cute, but if it weren’t for the money why would he ever agree to be in the same room and breath the same oxygen as this ‘Stiles’ dude? The kids a menace and he’s got a weird-ass name and he talks too much and he’s basically an asshole. Scott must have the patience of a freaking saint!  

 

It’s after a competition. Derek came in second. Not a bad showing, but the extra money he’s getting from the aftershow session is a nice balm. He shows up still in his posing trunks, they’re basically bits of string and a tight pouch, really no different from a thong, still a little sweaty from the stage. The nervous energy from the competition still hums through him. 

 

From the minute they enter Scott and Stiles are on him. Time is money after all. Stiles immediately goes for his pecs, his ‘muscle titties’ as Stiles calls them while he aggressively gropes and fondles them. Derek rolls his eyes. He’s used to being treated like a big piece of meat.  

 

Scott is a bit more shy. Before he reaches up to get a feel for Derek’s chest he asks, “Is this okay?”

 

Derek’s eyebrows scrunch up and he nods muttering, “Yeah. It’s what you paid for.”

 

So Scott partakes, gently cupping and admiring his pecs. Derek flexes for him, gives him some mandatory pec bounces which Stiles refers to as ‘the dance of the bloated milk bags’. If Derek’s fingers weren’t already clenched into fists for the flexing, they would be now. He resists the urge to punch Stiles’ lights out. 

 

His nipples are stiff and he can feel the heat on his face. He shifts his feet, the pouch of his blue posers just a bit more snug (and filled out) than normal. 

 

Stiles moves on to his biceps. 

 

Scott asks permission before moving instead down to his abdomen. “Your six-pack is amazing,” he says. And he’s so  _ earnest _ , with those damn puppy dog eyes and gentle touches. When he skims his fingertips along Derek’s chiseled abs down to his navel, Derek can’t help it, he moans. 

 

He bites his lip to late. 

 

“I think he likes it,” Stiles says, stating the obvious. Derek can feel the blush spreading over his cheeks down his neck to his chest. He’s breathing harder now and his posers are now too tight. But he stays in place like a true professional. 

 

Scott goes to his knees and leans in, looking up at Derek through his eyelashes, so innocent and  _ sincere _ . “Is this okay,” he asks again as he kisses just above Derek’s belly button. 

 

“Yes,” Derek rumbles husky and low, not trusting his voice. Scott begins licking and sucking the skin around his navel and Derek is losing it. Panting like he’s running a marathon. Scott is so precise and deliberate, no hurry at all even though Derek’s erection is now standing straight out, practically poking Scott in the face, straining painfully against the stretched material of his thong. It hurts, but he doesn’t move. He keeps flexing his upper body for Stiles who moves in behind him and gets more slap-happy with his ‘tiddies’.

 

“You had the best tits of any guy up there today,” Stiles tells him, whispering in his ear. “Big and full, but not all gross and veiny. You’ve got some good jugs here, baby. I’ve seen you hairy, and it’s hot, but I like you better like this. All smooth and glossy. I like muscle tits.”

 

Derek wants to say, “Yeah, you and every other guy in the audience,” all snarky or maybe, “Don’t call me, baby, asshole,” but Scott is doing some very distracting tricks with his belly button and all Derk can’t think is ‘Don’t come, don’t come, don’t come’ on infinite repeat. And all he manages to get out is a whimper.

 

He doesn’t usually get so involved during these sessions. Even the more intimate ones. Typically, guy comes in, feels him up, he flexes for awhile, guy jerks off and then it’s done. Guy hits the road and Derek showers to get the oil off and heads home. No erections, no blushing, no embarrassing whimpering. None of this is ordinary.

 

“Scotty’s got a nice set of muscle tits on him,” Stiles announces, pulling Derek back into the present. “Show him, Scotty!”

 

Derek almost whines when Scott pulls away, but he contains himself, red-faced enough for one day. “Stiles,” Scott complains, self-conscious. 

“No, dude, come on,” Stiles insists. “They’re great! You gotta show ‘em off! Derek wants to see them, don’t ya, Der?”

 

Normally, that would be a no. A no for the unwelcome nickname and no for the customer showing off their own body. It’s just weird. Derek is supposed to be the meat. If he’s not the special one, the big guy in the room, then what’s the point? 

 

Yet, Scott is different. He’s not a gym rat, that much is obvious, but more than that surprisingly Derek  _ wants _ to see Scott without his shirt on. He wants to appreciate someone else’s body for a change. It’s been a long time since he’s even noticed other people that way. Odd given his work environment, but true. Ever since Kate…

 

“Yeah,” he mumbles, looking down at the crouching Scott. “I wanna see.”

 

Meeting Derek’s gaze, Scott grins, his whole face lighting up like the freaking sun. Quick as a flash he’s ripped his shirt off over his head and tossed it away. Stiles was right, he does have a good pair of pecs. Not the hard edged, expertly chiseled look of a bodybuilder, but he does obviously take care of himself. 

 

“Told ya.” Stiles preens as if he’s the one with his shirt off. He’s clearly very proud of ‘his boy’ quote-unquote. 

 

“Can I feel?”

 

All three of them pause shocked by Derek’s request. But then the clouds part and Scott’s beaming smile returns and he stands up stepping closer so Derek can reach out and touch those soft-as-advertised pecs.  “I can’t bounce them like you do,” he admits, all suddenly shy. 

 

“They’re...they’re really good,” Derek stumbles, at a loss for words. 

 

“Tweak his nips like this,” Stiles suggests softly in Derek’s ear, not-so-softly demonstrating on Derek’s own peaked nipples. “It really gets him going.”

 

Derek is taken aback. Not by the act, so much as how much he wants to do it. He  _ wants _ to make Scott feel good, he  _ wants _ to pleasure him, get him off, be the one that gets him off, the one that turns him on. The whole shebang. He quirks an eyebrow, silently asking and Scott nods, so he does it and Scott whines so prettily. 

 

He wants to kiss him, to chase those noises, but that’s against the rules they established, so he just keeps doing what he’s doing. 

 

“Told ya,” Stiles crows in his ear. His long, nimble fingers twitch down Derek’s sides, then tease and dance around his navel. Derek’s breath is ragged. His dick throbs in his posers and the pain…

 

Scott to the rescue. Gently, he eases Derek’s dick out of his thong his fingers tugging lightly on the length before his hands wander over to Derek’s chest, returning the favor so to speak. 

 

The two don’t notice it, but BAM! Derek’s trunks are gone. Scott’s dick is free of his jeans, curved and good sized. And Stiles has got his hands on it while he whispers into Scott’s ear, “This is  _ so  _ hot, dude!”

 

Scott wordlessly agrees and turns his head for a kiss. More than friends. 

 

“You wanna suck him first or should I?”

 

“I want to first,” Scott proclaims, looking Derek straight in the eyes.

 

“Yes.” He nods. Scott gets back onto his knees. Stiles hurries back over to Derek’s side, no longer content to just touch. Now he’s licking and suckling and biting at Derek’s pecs, marking him up. Which is against the rules, but Derek is too busy getting head from a really cute guy that he’s actually into and it all feels too good to stop anyway. 

 

While Scott sucks and Stiles attacks him, Derek keeps flexing, keeps posing for them: bouncing his muscle tits, flexing his legs and thighs under Scott’s hands, lifting his arms for Stiles to get at his armpits. 

 

“I love how smooth you guys are,” Stiles comments, gnawing on his pit, while his hand smooths down Derek’s abs. He starts rubbing at Derek’s sensitive navel like it’s a girl’s clit and Derek would take offense, but the idea is too hot to even articulate. He’s starting to wonder. Does he have a feminization kink? 

 

“Play with my tits,” he gruffly demands, dying on the inside mortified. 

 

“Hell yeah, dude,” Stiles barks, happily munching on one muscle tit while slapping and groping the other. “I could do this all day!”

 

Eventually, they switch things up. Stiles goes down on him all hands and noisy sucking, while Scott licks his butt because apparently ‘he’s an ass man’ and SWEET GOD IN HEAVEN it shows! He’s been rimmed before, but Scott is so excited and enthusiastic and his tongue is UUUUUUUUNNNNNFFFFFFF. 

 

He’s never been in the middle of a threesome before. Usually, he only takes one at a time. This is new, this is good. “He’s wanted your ass for awhile,” Stiles declares, shooting up to his feet. “It’s the whole reason we booked this with you. Well, not the whole reason, I mean these milk jugs are fucking noice--”

 

Stiles manhandles them into a new configuration with Derek on his knees. Scott continues to devour his hole as Stiles steps in front of him and whips out his dick. Derek looks him over in confusion. How could a twig like him have such a long, thick dick? It’s always the twinks, so they say. The proof is slowly getting erect right in his face. 

 

He’s sucked a dick or two in his life, but not often, and definitely not one as big as Stiles’. He does his best. 

 

“Is this okay,” Scott asks, softly smacking his latex-wrapped dick against Derek’s hole. 

 

“Yes, I want it. Please,” Derek begs before Stiles turns his head and stuffs his dick back down his throat. Scott presses in and from there it’s all a blur.

 

Derek thinks he comes, but he’s too keyed-up to stop. Scott pulls out and shoots his load all over Derek’s ass. And then Stiles takes a turn and JESUS! Derek has never felt so loose, so open before. He starts off gentle, letting him get used to the girth and everything, but then he goes wild, pounding and grunting and generally tearing that ass up like he owns it. 

 

And he kinda does. Derek holds on for dear life, nursing on Scott’s flaccid dick just to keep his mouth full and stay somewhat quiet. He’s hard while Stiles has his way with him. And Derek determinedly gets Scott’s cock back in the game giving him head like there’s no tomorrow. 

 

Apparently, he does a good job because he comes a second time before Stiles has busted his first nut. “I’m gonna come,” he warns.

 

“Come on my face,” Derek partially demands and partially requests. 

 

“Really? Derek?”

 

“You heard the man, dude,” Stiles chimes in. “Oh, hey, can I jizz on your face?”

 

“No.” Scott looks torn, but Derek meets his eyes totally assured. He’s never done this, either. He’s seen it in porn a lot, but he’s never thought about experiencing it himself. There’s just something about Scott that makes him want things. 

 

“Do it for me, dude,” Stiles pleads, panting harshly.

 

And Scott does it. Derek gets a face full of warm, thick come, more than he expected given that Scott had already orgasmed once.  He sucks the last few drops from Scott’s cock and suckles until Scott pulls away. 

 

He thinks he’s done, but then Scott lifts his chin upwards and plants a chaste kiss to his lips. “Is this okay?”

 

“Y-yeah,” his voice breaks when he answers, but no one cares. Scott is too busy kissing him properly and Stiles is too busy railing him to high heaven. Derek comes onto the floor beneath him. Stiles comes into his condom not long after. 

 

He pulls out, swats Derek on the ass and says, “You gotta great pussy there, babe. Thanks.” 

 

He throws the condom away and tucks his junk back into his skinny jeans. Scott grabs his shirt and puts it back on while Derek wipes his face off inefficiently with his discarded trunks. Stiles throws him a deuce and peaces out. They’ve already paid not sense in lollygagging. Scott lingers a bit longer. “Would you like a cuddle or something?”

 

For the first time Derek shakes his head no. He’s broken enough rules for today. “You really are a great bodybuilder, dude,” Scott tells him. “We really dig your all-natural approach. Keep up the good work.”

 

“Thank you.” Derek flushes pink. This is nice, but awkward too. “I gotta go.”

 

“Oh, yeah, sorry, dude. Thanks for your time!”

 

After he’s gone, Derek hurriedly dresses in some shorts and a muscle tee. He tosses his ruined and torn(?) posers in his backpack and drives straight home. He buys his first dildo that night. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is interested in turning this into an actual fic, please let me know. 
> 
> As always, comments and kudos welcome.


	5. Love is fire--Wincest--69ing, Bunker Sex, Snowballing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean make out and have sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't watched the show in years, so the Not Canon Compliant tag is no joke. 
> 
> This takes place in the later seasons. To me, late-show wincest is an altogether different animal than early seasons wincest. A little more inevitable, slow burn, passionate but soft, and maybe a bit more melancholy. But that's just my take. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos welcome as always!

Dressed in his bathrobe Dean quietly entered Sam’s bedroom. He closed the door behind him slowly so the sound wouldn’t carry and locked the deadbolt. No one was around, but when you expected to be alone was exactly the time when every creepy, evil, or annoying thing decided to pop in on you. The water shut off in Sam’s shower and Dean glanced around the room for a pretense, something he could believably be doing. He caught sight of Sam’s ‘to-go’ kit on his desk and went with it, grabbing the handle of the leather bag just as the bathroom door swung open.

“Dean?” 

At the sound of his name Dean turned around. Steam swirled out from the bathroom surrounding his brother in an eerily beautiful mistiness. Dean gulped. Sam’s long, L’Oriel hair was plastered to his skin, still dripping wet. His body, covered only by the standard issue Bunker towel tied around his waist barely went to Sam’s thigh, was leaner than before. A living testament to the crazy, draining dangers of their lives. But damn he was still beautiful. Still Sammy. With that cute, confused puppy-dog look on his face.  

“I was--uh, just--uh,” Dean stammered. He cleared his throat, tearing his eyes off his brother’s rugged body. He shrugged. “Ya know...”

The confused expression held for a good minute, an eternity, until the reason for Dean’s visit finally dawned on Sam’s face. “Oh,” was all he said. 

“I just thought that....”

Sam blushed and cleared his throat, shifting his weight and staring pointedly at the floor. “Um, well...” The pause seemed to drag on forever, a moment of suspension before the drop. “Yeah. I--uh--yeah. Okay.”

Without another word, Sam undid the knot and pulled his towel aside, dropping it carelessly onto the ground. He stood in front of his brother naked as a jaybird with nothing standing between them anymore. 

Dean traced the sharp angles of his brother’s body full on, no shame, no timidity. He’d known it so well for all these years, seeing it merely made Sam, made this moment more real. His brother was gorgeous, as always. “Um, yeah.”

Fumbling over himself a bit, Dean tore at the knot in his bathrobe and shrugged the soft material off his shoulders. The fluffy fleece settled around his feet revealing his own complete lack of clothing. Dean met his brother’s hazel eyes.  _ We really doing this? _ Dean asked without speaking. 

_ I’m in. If you are? _ Sam gestured. 

_ Oh, I’m in. _ Dean insisted. A cloud of uncertainty immediately fell over him. _ I mean, if you are? _

Before this are-we-will-we back and forth continued on ad infinitum, Sam sighed and rolled his eyes, striding over to Dean in a huff. Dean stood his ground. Sam came up to him, his hands reaching up as if to cradle his face, but then Sam froze, unsure. His giant hands hung in the air. 

“Dammit, Sam,” Dean swore, swatting Sam’s hands out of his way. He grabbed his brother by the face and reeled him in for a kiss. Their lips and teeth smacked against each other, each brother attempting to right the situation without success. Tilted one way, tilted the other until finally Sam knocked Dean’s hands away and held his head still. 

Everything turned soft, lingering, and hungry. Sam’s tongue brushed against his own and Dean shuddered, his hands sweeping over his brother’s square hips, pulling the taller man in closer by his shapely ass. Sam groaned, adjusting to the new angle before diving in for another taste of Dean’s mouth. 

They shared a breath. 

A single one between them. 

Dean rested one hand on the small of Sam’s expansive back while the other wandered up and down the breadth and width of him, mapping the scars he knew so well into a different configuration, as if they were his own. Sam’s skin broke out in goosebumps under his fingers. Sam shivered. He pulled away, flushed, eyes half-lidded trained on Dean’s lips. 

Out of habit, Dean licked his bottom lip. Sam tracked the sensual movement like a hawk. “Sammy,” Dean whispered. Sam breathed in deep and dipped his head languidly tracing his tongue along the supple fullness of Dean’s bottom lip. Dean moaned yanking Sam as close as close could get. 

“Dean,” Sam complained as his brother’s hand slid into his wet hair. Dean tugged Sam’s head to the side, skimming his nose along Sam’s razor-sharp, silky smooth jawline down his throat to his frantically beating pulse point. Dean brushed his lips against Sam’s damp skin, blowing gently until Sam shook in his arms, mindlessly muttering his brother’s name. He laid a kiss there. 

For the first time in years they were both on fire. 

The normal fire. The human fire. 

The fire in your belly that makes you do stupid things. Like get naked, ambush your also naked brother, and then make out with said brother. What were their lives if not a powder keg waiting for the lit match? 

Dean sucked a mark onto Sam’s golden skin. Pink and red, purplish blue by tomorrow. So much more skin to touch and taste and mark and savor. 

***

Sam’s bed was barely big enough to hold them both. Two grown ass men in a bed meant for one average-sized person. They had to keep close, making the repositioning more difficult than necessary. Sam laid back down, his head at the foot of the bed, keeping his knees bent he could fit. Dean, still on his side, shuffled closer to his brother once more, taking the thick head of Sam’s cock back into his mouth. 

“Dean...” Sam sighed and craned his neck down. His lips wrapped around Dean’s cock and the brothers moaned practically in unison. Muffled and complete. Dean stroked the length he couldn’t take, Sam stroke the length he couldn’t quite reach. 

The weight of Sam on Dean’s tongue made his heart hammer in his chest as he rubbed Sam’s flank. Sam hummed in appreciation, flicking his tongue against Dean’s constantly dripping slit leaving him unquenchable, hungry for more. Always more. 

Dean shot first.

Sam instantly followed.

They spent hours swapping the taste of each other back and forth until all that remained was them: naked and alone. Together.       

 


	6. Ramsay And His Girls [Bestiality, Masturbation, Non-Con Voyeurism, Indirect Incest]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay masturbates and his dogs clean up the mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, this was supposed to be one small piece of a larger story. I don't think the larger story is going to come into being anytime soon, so I'd like to get this off my desktop.

Ramsay erupted, coating his hand and the floor beneath his desk with come. He paused the video playback. Claws clicked on the wooden floor as his girls swarmed around his feet to clean up his mess and get a taste of their favorite snack. Bella, his favorite, allowed the younger ones to eat off the floor. She, instead, went to the source: lapping and slobbering on her owner’s softening cock and sensitive balls. Meanwhile, Grace, his number two, licked the seed off her master’s hand. 

“Good girl,” he murmured, absently petting Bella’s head while he stared intently at the woman in the video. Myra. The Ex. The whore that was currently paused in the middle of getting fucked by his father.  

With the mess on the floor cleaned up, the other girls walked back to their beds. Grace soon followed. Bella continued licking at his flaccid cock. Ramsay reached for the mouse and exited the video screen. The image on the screen disappeared, but remained in perfect clarity in his mind’s eye. 

The anger resurged. 

Ramsay knocked Bella off his cock and got to his feet. She yelped and growled unhappily, deprived. If he let her keep going, she’d get him hard again, as only she could, and now wasn’t the time for sex. Now, he needed blood.

Stuffing his junk back into his leather pants Ramsay zipped up and yanked his leather jacket up off his bed. He pulled it on, one arm at a time, killing his father in his mind over and over. Myra first. And then his father. Over and over. Or maybe the other way around? What would hurt the most?

He stormed out of his room, leaving his girls behind, and headed out into the night. It wasn’t time yet. Until it was, he needed an older man with a younger woman. Someone he could hurt, someone he could bleed, someone he could make suffer. The satisfying screams and bloody games would have to do for now. While Father betrayed him.  

Again and again. 

Over and over. 

With Rose. 

The one that would never get away again.


	7. born of snow, touched by fire [Jon x Tormund Smut]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Tormund have sex. [Somnophilia, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Drabble]
> 
> Set in "Beyond the Wall" S7, E6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have low-key shipped Jormund/Jonmund for years. I never expected the ship to make it all the way to the end (and basically be canon!) What a blessing.

“My little crow,” Tormund whispered as he rolled Jon over onto his belly. Jon came fully awake to that familiar fullness, that weight on his back, the heat of Tormund’s body lying on top of his. He sighed, softly groaning as Tormund pressed deeper into him getting as close as the furs and leather allowed. The bigger man gently shushed him, nuzzling the back of his head as he mumbled, “My pretty crow.”

They were home. Back in the True North where they belonged. Jon bit into his glove to stifle his grunt as Tormund moved inside him, the burn making him sweat more than the fire beside them. Too many moons had passed, but he held his peace. The discomfort never lasted and never was wasted. His greatest swordsman saw to that. 

Tormund kissed the top of Jon’s head, rolling his hips in that common rhythm. Long and slow he worked, until the pain lessened and the constant back and forth left Jon panting. He closed his eyes and let his snowhusband take what he needed. 

Allowing the fire to burn was sometimes the only reasonable option. And certainly the most pleasurable. Jon raised his hips, meeting Tormund’s thrusts, his bared ass tickled by the furs the taller man wore. Tormund groaned in his ear, “Little crow...”

“Always,” Jon murmured. Tormund sighed, burying his nose in the crook of Jon’s neck just above his collar taking in the smell of him, his snowwife’s musk. He would leave no mark there this night, but he lapped at the skin. Promises of the future, a future Jon saw each night in his dreams. 

The pair of them riding Beyond-the-Wall, forever free. No more duties to perform, no more battles to fight, no more burdens of command to carry. A warm and careless dream for a worn and careful man. 

Above him, Tormund rumbled and growled, nearing his pleasure. “Little crow?”

“Stay,” Jon instructed. He could feel Tormund’s smile as the larger man rose up and grabbed his hips in his giant hands. Jon rocked back into him while Tormund stabbed forward, grunting like an animal. He sharply inhaled, finishing inside as directed, tense as he erupted and collapsing back onto his snowwife as he reached his end. 

“Jon?”

“No. Not tonight,” he replied. He was much too anxious to indulge in any release. They had far too much to do and worry about. 

Tormund fondly patted his backside. “Aye,” he muttered, reaching around to do up Jon’s trousers and not help him off. 

Jon waved him away. “Sleep,” he commanded. “I need you sword ready tomorrow.”

“And I will be, my king,” Tormund vowed. “Always.”

“Always.”  


	8. Scackson [Scott x Jackson], Domestic Headcanons, Human AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I woke up with Scackson feels this morning, so here's Just some of my domestic headcanons for one of my Teen Wolf OTPs. 
> 
> Prompts taken from the usual OTP Ship questionnaires.

Who…

Falls asleep on the couch? Scott does. The reasons for this usually involve Stiles and a movie marathon, or a gaming marathon, or a ‘pot party’ where they get too high to even get up off the couch. The marijuana used to piss Jackson off, but he’s learned to tolerate it for Scott.

Makes friends with the neighbors? Scott, of course. Jackson couldn’t care less about who lives next door to him, he couldn’t be bothered to learn their names or waste the brain space to recognize their faces. Scott on the other hand _loves_ getting to know the people around them. Sometimes he even drags Jackson along to birthday parties or vow renewals for strangers because he says it's the right thing to do.

Is an adventurous eater? Scott mostly, just because during lacrosse season Jackson keeps to a strict diet plan. Off-season though they both like to try new foods, but Jackson has a strong aversion to certain textures, so in the end Scott really is the most adventurous.

Hogs the covers? Jackson almost every night. He runs cold and Scott runs warm, so it balances out as far as Jackson is concerned. Scott complains sometimes, but it isn’t a big deal to either of them.

Stays up to 2 AM reading? During the school year either of them might stay up to read for classes. Scott is the one who reads for fun though and when he gets engrossed in a new book he sometimes stays up all night to finish.

Sings in the shower? They both do. Jackson sings top 40 pop songs and Scott tends towards rock n’ roll or punk.

Plans the date nights? They take turns. Scott likes to go out on picnics, walks in the park/woods, day trips in the country, and he loves to revisit places that have sentimental value to the two of them: the restaurant they shared their first kiss in, the roller skating rink where Jackson told Scott he loved him for the first time, the movie theater they went to on their first date, etc. Jackson sticks to traditional fare like a dinner and a movie, a visit to an art gallery or a late-night stop at a museum; he likes going clubbing and/or dancing on the weekends.

Wants kids? Scott is open about someday wanting kids. After college when he’s got a steady job. Jackson is dismissive of the whole idea, but deep down he wants kids badly. One boy, one girl. He already has names picked out and everything. He loves holding babies in his arms and he can’t wait to hold his own someday. Not that he would admit it. But Scott knows.

Likes to travel? They both love traveling. Scott tends toward more countryside and natural landmarks. Jackson prefers big city locales with plenty of shopping and clubs/museums to try out. They do their best to split the difference.

Does what chores?

  * Jackson handles the cooking because Scott is hopeless beyond boiling water for mac and cheese. When Jackson is too tired to cook they eat out.
  * They share the laundry and dishes. Jackson does the washing, Scott does the drying. Jackson sorts the clothes into their proper wash cycles and colors, Scott puts them up. They hardly ever use the dishwasher Jackson insisted on having except after parties or friend nights.  
  * Scott sweeps and dusts. Jackson mops and disinfects. They share in cleaning any messes that might pop up. Unless it Stiles’ fault in which case Stiles has to clean it up himself (as per the agreement they reached after Stiles went on his make-Jackson-clean-up-big-messes-to-annoy-him reign of terror.)



Kills bugs, spiders, etc? Jackson won’t go near them. If he can, Scott will take the little critter outside and release it, but if it’s a cockroach he’ll kill it right away, no questions asked.

Most organized? Jackson, during school and lacrosse season. Scott oddly enough in his day-to-day life. Scott likes to have routines and schedules and plans. He likes to know where he’s going even if the plans change last minute.

Uses up the hot water? Jackson. Always Jackson.

Takes the longest to get ready? Again, Jackson. Always Jackson.

Cusses more? Stiles. Scott typically keeps things PG-13 and serves up some serious puppy dog eyes if Jackson goes on an expletive tirade, so Stiles ends up the one around them with the serious dirty mouth.

Controls the TV remote/Netflix? Scott, but with input from Jackson of course. In the end though, they watch whatever Scott wants to watch because Jacksson doesn’t usually care/get attached to TV shows and also he’s a total pushover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments welcome. 
> 
> If any of these sparks an idea for a fic or drabble please let me know. For headcanons you don't need to ask my permission, but a heads up is always appreciated.


	9. Jackson Whittemore x Noah Stilinski [Spanking, Age Difference, Pain Kink, Daddy Kink] Not!Fic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson is a brat. As Sheriff, Noah puts him in his place and things are better after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic idea has haunted me for a while and I needed to put it down. If you feel inspired to actually write the thing hit me up.

Jackson is a spoiled, bratty asshole, mouthing off and full of condescension. He doesn't even try to hide it. Noah has pretty much had enough of the lip and the attitude, so before he lets Jackson go he takes matters in hand. First, he cuffs the kid, then yanks down his pants and boxer briefs, stuffs something in his mouth and then whales on his ass. Jackson struggles of course, but to his shock and horror he can't get free or get away or even loosen Noah's hold. In other words, he's powerless. All he can do is take it. And he does. He cries and screams and Noah leaves his ass on fire. Once the Sheriff has worked off his frustrations he helps Jackson dress and can't help but notice the boy's erection. He ignores it.

When Jackson is released he goes off, threatening to sue Noah, ruin his life, etc...Noah spins him into the wall and holds him there and Jackson is SHOOK. In a deadly calm, quiet voice Noah explains how DONE he is with Jackson's bullshit and no more of his dickhead, rich boy shenanigans will be tolerated. Basically threatening more corporal punishments if Jackson tries to make a fuss. Noah then let's go and gives Jackson one more swat to the ass and tells him to go back to class after getting cleaned up. Jackson obeys.

The rest of the day passes in a blur for Jackson. At home, that night, he has to jerk off three times before he can fall asleep. Once in bed, once with his mirrors positioned so he could see the red handprints Noah left on his pale skin, and one last time pressed against the hard edge of his desk. The hurt helps get him off. He swears to himself that he'll reveal everything to his parents the next day, but he doesn't. Walking hurts. Every time he sits down he pops a boner. His ass has never felt so bad and yet so good. He never speaks to anybody about his run-in with the Sheriff and he does get just a smidge less obnoxious. Not enough to make him a 'good boy' like Scott, but enough to keep Noah from having to fulfill his threats, though honestly he kinda wants him to. But this is early seasons Jackson, still closeted and insecure and not about to explore his sexual feelings.

Then he moves away to London. He graduates high school. When he comes back to the States on holiday, he heads for home in Beacon Hills. He mattered there. He was a star there. It's a bit sad and pathetic, but until he comes up with a life ambition beyond graduation he'd rather be home. The instant he gets home Stiles somehow knows and is on him like a house on fire to check up on his dad for him. Texts, calls, emails, the whole gamut, which is odd considering he hadn't given Stiles his phone number or email account. And given the loaded history between him and the Sheriff, Jackson shrugs it off. At first anyways. But Stiles is relentless and Jackson is bored since no one he knew in high school is still in town. They all apparently had goals. Achievable goals.

So, one Friday night, Jackson slinks over to the Stilinski home with a six pack of cheap beer and a pepperoni pizza. When Noah opens the door he's shocked and confused, but Stiles has had him on a diet for months and he's not about to turn away contraband, so he invites Jackson in to watch the game and share in the food. Now that he's given up drinking, after a disastrous experience in London, Jackson is a total lightweight. He's not drunk off the beers, but he is buzzed. His inhibitions are down and he keeps on eyeing the Sheriff, sizing him up. They have barely said two words to each other the entire time he's been in the house and there hasn't been any indication of that changing anytime soon.

Suddenly, Jackson reaches over and plants a kiss on a stunned Noah. He's out nowadays, comfortable being into dudes. He isn't as out with being into older men/daddies. He's fooled around with other older men, but Noah here is the one that started it all and his mouth tastes like cheap beer and pepperoni. Somehow though its perfect. For him. Noah is taken aback and jarred, ending the kiss after enjoying for a second. This kid may be of legal age, but he's still basically a kid compared to him. After the kiss its awkward and Jackson leaves in a huff texting Stiles a photo of the beer and pizza he'd taken earlier saying he did as demanded and visited Stiles' old man and he will never do it again.

Cut to the next Friday. A better brand of beer and a Meat Lover's Supreme. The Stilinski house. Jackson tries to play it cooler, smooth like he normally is with people he fancies, but the Sheriff is still in uniform and musky from a long double shift with the chest hair popping out of his undone collar and the perfect dad-bod and those giant hands that Jackson has dreamed about for years. They don't talk about last week and they don't talk through the majority of the game on TV while they eat and drink. Jackson makes another move and after a few minutes kissing back Noah once again rebuffs him. Jackson doesn't leave right away this time, but it is still hella awkward. And Jackson is mystified.

The other older dudes he'd boned had been grateful. Eager to bang someone as young and hot as he was. He barely had to do anything and he could get a chaser on his ass willing to do anything for a chance at spending the night with him. He goes home that night horny and determined.

The next week he returns with two bottles of vodka and a dish of homemade lasagna he learned to make while studying abroad in Italy last semester. He's got on a jockstrap and the tightest pair of pants he owns, plus a mesh, see-through tee and just a bit of gloss so his supple lips really catch the light. He is in it to win it. Noah is surprised by the change in fashion and quality of food, but he lets Jackson in and they share a meal. Jackson makes every excuse to bend over a lot and gives his gait a little extra swish and is constantly licking his lips and giving Noah the unmistakable bedroom eyes. They end the night on the couch making out for a solid five minutes before Noah breaks away and gives him the bums rush.

Incensed, Jackson cuts the cute and asks what the hell is up with the Sheriff. Pretty much demanding to know why the older guy won't pounce on him.

Noah is...a mess. He's dated women a bit, but nothing's stuck. He fooled around with guys a long time ago when he was in his twenties, but he's never pursued anything. And Jackson is still so young and Stiles would blow a gasket and what do they even have in common and why should he 'jump on it'?

Jackson spins around, yanks down his pants and shows Noah his ass, dotted with red handprints from some random older dude Jackson found on Grindr. And he's all like these should be your handprints. You're the one that started this. Its all your fault. We do this once and then we're done and you'll be out of my system and I can go on my merry way to bigger and better things. Noah sends him home after allowing himself one single pinch to Jackson's perfect bubble butt that made the kid whine. That night they both went to bed hard.

On the fourth Friday Jackson refuses to go. He gave it his all, Noah was a Stilinski, which means he's only a notch away from braindead and totally not worth his time.

The fifth Friday arrives and Jackson is back at the Stilinski front door ringing the bell. The guy from Grindr was too nice, too accommodating. So Jackson goes for broke. He's wearing a collar and a jockstrap. No pants, no shirt. He's got fishnets on and some kitten heels and a little pink bow wrapped around the end of a dildo he shoved up his ass in the driveway. Noah opens the door and for heartbeat the two of them just stare at each other.

Eventually, Noah jerks him inside and slams the door. He goes on a tirade about public indecency, unacceptable shenanigans, bribery, and misdemeanors. Jackson doesn't get laid, but he does get what he actually needs. Noah puts him over his knee and gives his ass a proper spanking. Top to bottom, side to side, not an inch of skin spared. After that Noah has Jackson stand facing the corner, naked and plugless, hands on the wall, feet spread apart. And he leaves him like that for almost an hour. At the end of which Noah gives Jackson some of Stiles' left-behind clothes to wear and sends him home with the understanding that from now on he will not pull a stunt like that and that if he wants something from Noah he'll have to use his words and ask like an adult and that he'll see him again next Friday.

Jackson makes a face at the clothes Noah forces on him, promises to be good, and then heads home, snapping a selfie of his outfit and texting it to Stiles with the caption, 'Look what your dad gave me to wear on my way home tonight.'

Stiles of course freaks out demanding answers. Jackson smiles smugly and refuses to answer.          


	10. The heart can get really cold if all you've known is winter.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steter Idea/Snippet [Post-Apocalyptic, Cannibalism, Supernatural Abilities/Telepathy]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea was inspired by Edmund Dulac's painting "The Ice Maiden". I have a bookmark with the painting drawn on it and this idea has bounced around almost ever since I first saw it. 
> 
> Title is a quote from one of my favorite authors, Benjamin Alire Saenz. Specifically from his novel, "Last Night I Sang to the Monster". A tough read, dealing with addiction and recovery from trauma, but I loved it.

In a post-apocalyptic world winter has come to California and has stayed for like a century, Narnian-level winter. Not many people around anymore. And those that have endured are survivalists doing whatever it takes to make it through. Society as we know it, is gone. 

Enter Peter Hale, a werewolf, but not in the usual sense. Unlike his show counterpart he doesn’t morph or shapeshift into any kind of wolf or monster. No fangs, no claws, no weird eyes, no superstrength. Instead, he is a literal man-wolf. A man capable of forming telepathic bonds with wolves, forming a pseudo-pack with himself as the Alpha.  

With the telepathic bond comes the ability to use the wolves’ heightened senses of hearing and better vision, but retain his human mind and intellect. In fact, the wolves that make up his pack eventually develop bigger, more evolved brains through the symbiotic bond leading to a pack of smarter-than-average wolves that each have their own personalities:

Derek is sullen and moody, but a capable fighter, and easily the physically strongest.

Cora is the fastest.

Malia is the best tracker.

Erica is the most savage.

The five of them mlive in what was once the Preserve in Beacon Hills. 

They share this forest with a boy, Stiles, a werebear. He has a sleuth of three polar bear companions:

Papa, the biggest and strongest bear.

Chocha, the female.

And, Brat, the youngest.

One day, while Peter and his pack are wondering the woods searching for food, they meet Stiles and his sleuth. In his hands, Stiles is carrying a human liver, his face and hands bloody. Peter pauses in surprise, but Stiles cheerfully explains, “Mean, fat hunter try to shoot Papa, but Papa kill him first. And now he thin.”

Peter smiles as Stiles sweetly offers him the rest of the liver. 

“I already eat the heart.”

“My wicked love,” Peter cooes, biting into the blood rich meat. Waste not, want not. 


End file.
